


you're playing the villain (whether you intended to or not)

by tuvokholdmyhandchallenge



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Consequences, Episode Tag, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Kira Nerys is not the hero here, Minor Character Death, Sad Ending, Whump, episode tag: s01ep15 Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25862269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuvokholdmyhandchallenge/pseuds/tuvokholdmyhandchallenge
Summary: Kira Nerys burned down Mullibok's house, acting under the power of people who took his home and family away. That's over, it's done with. But the fallout hasn't been managed yet.(I was not fond of the ending of Progress, but don't misunderstand, this is not a fix-it fic.)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 7
Collections: Star Trek Bingo Summer 2020





	you're playing the villain (whether you intended to or not)

**Author's Note:**

> this is not a happy fic.

Nerys tugged her uniform straight again, unnecessarily, and swapped her basket from one arm to the other. The basket was antiquated, vintage, handmade, but functional, and she hoped that the fact that she had it at all would at least carry some of the sentiment to Mullibok that it did to her. Or make some headway to winning him over. Again. 

She stepped onto the platform and turned to face the transport officer on duty, gave a curt nod. 

“Ready to transport.” 

The officer nodded back and tapped the interface a few time and Nerys was overtaken with the once-unfamiliar sensation. She almost wished she could take comfort in the feeling, but the anxiety over what was to come was too strong. 

Last time she’d seen Mullibok, he’d asked her to kill him. The thought made the commander cringe internally, damn near externally. She could understand it, she supposed, the home he’d built had been everything to him. She knew it now, she’d known it then. But she couldn’t let him die. 

The same thoughts swirled around her head as she rematerialized in front of what she recognized immediately was a community living center. The place looked warm enough, inviting stucco-like walls of unknown origin dotted with windows. The grounds were maintained well, at least. Nerys nodded to herself in approval, though she noticed with a tiny bit of dismay that there were no bee boxes, no stonefire ovens, no hectic garden planters. It was warm, but not personal. The sun at least was pleasant. 

Nerys knocked on the door and, after a moment, it opened to reveal a kind-looking elderly woman. She smiled openly at Nerys, who gave something hopefully suitably friendly in return. 

“Hello, dear, how can we help you today?” The woman asked, glancing Nerys up and down, taking in the basket and clothing and seemingly not drawing any definite conclusions. 

Nerys cleared her throat. 

“Well. I’m here to see someone, actually. Mullibok?” 

The woman’s face didn’t fall so much as smoothed down into a disappointed gaze. Nerys felt the weight of her eyes settle onto her shoulders. 

“Who should I tell him has come?” She asked after a moment, seeming to already know the answer. 

Nerys paused, because the answer should be easy, but after the last time she saw him, too much familiarity could feel like another slight. 

“Kira Nerys, if you don’t mind.” Nerys hoped desperately that he wouldn’t turn her away. 

The woman nodded, paused, then closed the door. Nerys almost wanted to find it in her to be offended, but she was already on his property. She knew enough about these communities to hope that he had found one that was like a family to him, but she’d heard the stories. There were less Bajoran elderly than there once were, after the Cardassian ruling, but the ones who were still alive weren’t always given the best homes. Family units had fractured and in the recovery they had tried to rebuild, but there were groups of survivors who had no one, who could find no solace in a family of younger people to support them. Instead, they started to form family units of their own, depending on each others kindness and abilities to fill the gaps each person’s aging bodies and minds held. 

It was a massive undertaking for many elder groups, as their new families were constantly changing, growing and shrinking. Compounds like this were built to be new permanent residences, but only some Communities really managed to become homes, while the rest turned into a revolving cast of elderly, infirmed, and dying people. 

Nerys hadn’t had the courage to look up what kind of reputation this particular Community held. 

She shuffled her weight between her feet and adjusted her basket. The pastries she had made were an old traditional recipe she’d dug up from her grandmother’s collection. They weren’t enough to- well, they weren’t enough, but Nerys desperately hoped they would be a start. 

A minute passed, two, three, before the door cracked open again. Nerys straightened up automatically, ready to receive any news. 

The woman’s face, still deeply grooved with years of expressions both joyful and pained, was now only showing the latter. She avoided meeting Nerys’ eyes. 

“I’m sorry, but Mullibok isn’t feeling well enough to receive visitors right now.” She shook her head. 

Nerys’ stomach soured. 

“Is he ill?” She asked, sharply, knowing full well that it wasn’t her place but still feeling the worry burn in her chest. 

The woman finally looked at her, a measuring stare, considering. 

“In a manner of speaking, yes. His spirit is ill.” She held the door open slightly wider. “My name is Kell Soral, why don’t you come in for a few minutes? I haven’t had a guest in quite some time.” Her words were measured, careful. 

Nerys almost declined, but the woman’s eyes caught hers and an agreement tumbled from her lips anyway. She found herself whisked away into what looked like a large meeting hall, not unlike the mess on DS9. There were about half a dozen elderly Bajorans lounging, chatting, or playing games. Nerys’ eyes caught on one man who was staring out the window with an empty gaze. His mouth was moving, but no sound escaped him. 

Soral followed his gaze and nodded even as she gestured for Nerys to sit. 

“That’s Gelhan, he’s been here for just a little while.” 

Nerys nodded, unsure where the conversation was going. 

Soral nodded again, to herself this time. “He’s not well, his spirit is restless. His time is coming, but he isn’t ready.” 

The words chilled down Nerys’ spine. “He’s dying?” 

“We’re all dying, Dear.” Soral folded her hands in front of her and rubbed her wrinkled fingers together. “Those of us who live here are lucky to have made it this far. Despite the best efforts of…” Her voice trailed off and Nerys watched her visibly steel herself. It made her want to put a hand over the woman’s, but she refrained. It didn’t feel like her place. 

“How are you related to Mullibok?” The woman asked after a moment of silence. 

Nerys wasn’t sure how to answer that. She took too long, apparently, and the woman peered at her curiously. 

Honesty was the best in something like this, Nerys decided. This woman had enough life experience to know a liar when she saw one, and she got the feeling there was no way to come back from that one. 

“I’m the reason he’s here.” The words stuck in her throat and she forced them out, horrified to hear the break in her tone. She didn’t know how much Soral knew about Mullibok’s history, but one look at the fresh surprise and dismay on her face said it wasn’t nothing.

“You’re her? You burned his house down?” 

“I am.”

She stared at her silently. The urge to push through and explain herself overcame Nerys, who hadn’t felt this inspected since her days in the Camp. 

“Did he ever tell you why?” 

“You thought you were going to save his life, was it?” 

“I did. He would have died on that moon, he couldn’t stay.” 

There was more silence. 

“You know, a person can die and continue breathing.” The woman’s words were more speculative than sharp, but Nerys felt them like a slap.

“But he didn’t! He’s here! He found a new home, and he’s fine!” 

“Nerys. Have you ever had a home taken from you?” 

“I went through the same things you all did, I was in the labor camps. I had a home and I left it, and I’m fine.” 

“You and Mullibok are not the same, though I can see why he might have seen some of himself in you. You may have been in the camps as well, but you were not pulled from a full life before, and you have not yet established a full family after, I presume.”

“Did he tell you why he won’t see me?” Nerys finally asked. This whole conversation was painful enough to make her wish she hadn’t immediately, but the need for some sort of closure had her close to desperation. 

“When you’re old, you’ll understand, your home is your world. You took that from him, and no matter where he goes, there will never be another place for him like that. It will take time for him to forgive you for that, even though you were just following orders.” The words stung. She stood and Nerys automatically followed suit. “Now, I think I’ve got some weaving to see to. I’ll show you to the door, Ms. Kira. Perhaps if you come by again, he will be in a better mood.” 

Nerys nodded, murmured an agreement. This wasn’t the time or place to become indignant. 

As the door closed behind her, Nerys was left with the wound that had been her time at Mullibok’s homestead once again feeling raw and open, the regret twisting in her gut like shards of glass.

* * *

Nerys trekked up to the Community front porch again, this time carrying a book and a small cake, wrapped in a piece of cloth. 

She knocked on the door three times, louder than she intended at first. After a moment, the door creaked open to reveal a man with just a wisp of white hair above his ears and a pleasant look on his face.

“Well hello there young lady, what brings you here today?” He asked, opening the door to invite her in. Nerys stepped inside and he closed the door after, sweeping his arm in welcome. 

“Hi. I’m here to see Mullibok?” She kept the waver out of her voice. Seeming pathetic wouldn’t give her any points with Mullibok, and she didn’t want pity from anyone else.

“Ooh, old Mullibok’s a little busy right now.” The man said with a good-natured wince. 

“Busy?” Nerys pried gently. 

“Well, not busy so much as… not taking guests.” He amended with a shrug. “Would you like to take a walk? I haven’t had a guest in quite some time.” 

Nerys nodded, though his words weren’t exactly reassuring. 

The man picked up his fibrous sweater and pulled it over his head, horribly mussing his hair as he went. He ran his hands over the hair and seemed satisfied with the slightly subdued chaos. Nerys felt a slight pang of fondness for the old man. 

“I’m Rame, and you are?” He opened the door again and gestured for her to step through, following after her and letting it close gently behind them. They started walking down a path that extended around the building and, presumably, further back. 

“Nerys. Nice to meet you.” She smiled, a gesture for his benefit that belied the turmoil underneath. 

“A pleasure!” He clasped his hands behind his back and looked around, taking in the scenery. “So, how are you and Mullibok related?” An innocent question that made Nerys tense all the same. Would she have to outline her decision, and likely defend it, to every person she talked to here? 

“I burned his house down.” She stated bluntly, turning away to avoid his face. The flowers in the little bed were a brilliant yellow. It made her eyes water just a little. 

“Ah, that was you.” Rame’s voice was softer, without accusation. It almost made her feel worse. 

“It was. Is he ill?” She gathered herself and looked back, finding him similarly engrossed in the landscape still. 

“Would you really like to know?” 

No. 

“Please.” 

“He’s not eating.” The answer was half sigh, half statement, and Nerys stopped walking in shock. 

“What? Why not?” She didn’t quite demand. 

“Why should he?” He stopped a few feet in front of her and looked over his shoulder, shrugged. 

“He’ll die if he doesn’t eat! He has to know that!” 

The man shrugged again, looked back to the garden. Nerys was frozen in place, trying to process the implications of the statement, desperately looking for any way to fix this situation. 

When it became apparent that the man wasn’t going to move until she decided whatever she was deciding, Nerys nodded and turned around. 

“I need to see him.” 

“He won’t see you.” The statement made Nerys stop, turn back. “And you can’t force him.” The voice was level, less pleasant than before but still lacking any anger. The resignation she refused to let grip her was apparent in his voice. “We won’t let you until he agrees.” 

“Then, well- but-” Nerys was truly backed into a corner there, unable to make any demands, unwilling to leave him without any closure. 

“Will you at least give him a message?” She finally settled on, and Rame nodded. “Please tell him that… That I’m sorry, and I miss him, and I’ll be back to see him in a week.” 

Rame nodded again and Nerys looked back to the Community building, wondering which window was Mullibok’s before realizing that at this point, it didn’t matter. 

“I think it’s time for me to head back home. Thank you for the walk, I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer.” Nerys excused herself. Rame turned back and gave a small bow. 

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Nerys. See you in a week.” 

* * *

The third time Nerys approached the door, determination burned in her gut. She had to see him. This was it, she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She rapped on the door three times and only had to wait a few moments before the door swung open to reveal a familiar face, though not the one she had hoped for. 

“Solal, hello.”

Solal pursed her lips but didn’t reply. Dread welled up in Nerys, her heart recognizing the signs before her racing mind could catch up. 

She took in the woman before her. The woman’s face was pale, drawn, with an air of misery that could only mean one thing. 

“He’s dead.” Nerys’ voice was blunt, flat. Disbelieving, but still sure. 

Soral nodded. 

Nerys nodded back. 

“I need to go.” She turned and stiffly marched away from the house, ignoring the old woman calling her name in a wavering voice. She distantly realized that she was still holding the card she’d written for Mullibok, hoping the antiquated message would soften his heart just enough to see her. She dropped it, let it flutter to the ground, and scanned the landscape. Which window was his? Was this the last thing he had seen? Had he been trapped in bed, too weak to move? Was it her fault? 

Nerys registered the footfalls behind her, getting close. She couldn’t deal with them, she couldn’t deal with anything right now. Nerys closed her eyes and tapped her comm badge with a little too much force. 

“One to beam up.” 


End file.
